Debts' was the oldest, and Money' the youngest. Leaving the regular playgoer, and investigating for yourself, you will find that the Old Comedies are mostly those which, in spite of their being more than a hundred years old, are yet lively and sprightly enough to amuse a modern audience.

The life of a drama, even of a successful drama, is rarely threescore years and ten; and the number of dramas which live to be centenarians is small indeed. In the last century the case was different; and a hundred years ago the regular playgoer had a chance to see frequently eight or ten pieces by Massinger, Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher, and Shirley. Nowadays, Shakspere's are the only Elizabethan plays which keep the stage, with one solitary exception

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Massinger's A New Way to Pay Old Debts.' The Chances,' of Beaumont and Fletcher; the 'City Madam,' of Massinger; and 'Every Man in his Humor,' of Ben Jonson — these have all, one after another, dropped out of sight. The comedies of the last century have now in their turn become centenarians; of these there are half a score which have a precarious hold on the theatre, and are seen at lengthening intervals; and there are half a dozen which hold their own firmly. Of this scant half-dozen, the School for Scandal' is, perhaps, in the greatest request, followed closely by She Stoops to Conquer," and by the 'Rivals.' Of late the Rivals' has been seen most often in these United States, since Mr. Joseph Jefferson, laying aside the accent and the tatters of that ne'er-do-weel, Rip Van Winkle, has taken on the counterfeit presentment of Bob Acres, full of strange oaths and of a most valiant bearing; and he has been aided and abetted by that sterling artist, Mrs. John Drew, as the voluble Mrs. Malaprop.

The Rivals' was Sheridan's first play; it was produced at Covent Garden, January 17, 1775. Like the first plays of many

another dramatist who has afterward succeeded abundantly, it failed dismally on its first performance, and again on the second, the night after. It was immediately withdrawn; in all probability, it was somewhat rewritten; and of a certainty it was very much shortened. Then, on January 28, after a ten days' absence from the bills, it reappeared, with Mr. Clinch in the place of Mr. Lee, as Sir Lucius O' Trigger.

Moore remarks that as comedy, more than any other species of composition, requires "that knowledge of human nature and the world which experience alone can give, it seems not a little extraordinary that nearly all our first-rate comedies should have been the productions of very young men." Moore then cites Farquhar, and Vanbrugh, and especially Congreve, all of whose comedies were written before he was twenty-five. It is these three writers who gave the stamp to English comedy; and Sheridan's die was not unlike theirs. Now, a consideration of the fact that English comedy is thus, in a measure, the work of young men, may tend to explain at once its failings and its force. As Lessing says: "Who has nothing can give nothing. A young man, just entering upon the world himself, cannot possibly know and depict the world." And this is just the weak point of English comedy; it is brilliant and full of dash, and it carries itself bravely, but it does not show an exact knowledge of the world, and it does not depict with precision. "The greatest comic genius," Lessing adds, "shows itself empty and hollow in its youthful works." Empty and hollow are harsh words to apply to English comedy, but I think it easy to detect, behind all its glitter and sparkle, a want of depth, a superficiality, which is not far from the emptiness and hollowness of which Lessing speaks. Compare this English comedy of Congreve and of Sheridan, which is a battle of the wits, with the broader and more human comedy of Molière

and of Shakspere, and it is easy to see what Lessing means. In place of a broad humanity, is an exuberance of youthful fancy and wit, delighting in its exercise. What gives value to these early plays, and especially to Sheridan's, is the touch of the true dramatist to be seen in them; and the dramatist is like the poet in so far that he is born, not made.

"A dramatic author," says M. Alexandre Dumas, fils, "as he advances in life, can acquire higher thoughts, can develop a higher philosophy, can conceive and execute works of stronger tissue, than when he began; in a word, the matter he can cast into his mold will be nobler and richer, but the mold will be the same." M. Dumas proceeds to show how the first plays of Corneille, of Molière, and of Racine, from a technical point of view, are as well constructed as the latest. So it is with Congreve, and Vanbrugh, and Farquhar, and Sheridan; they gave up the stage before they had great experience of the world; but they were born dramatists. All their comedies were made in the head, not in the heart. But made where or how you please, they are well made. It is impossible to deny that the 'Rivals,' however hollow or empty it may appear on minute critical inspection, is a very extraordinary production for a young man of twenty-three.

Humor ripens slowly, but in the case of Sheridan some forcinghouse of circumstance seems to have brought it to an early maturity, not as rich, perhaps, or as mellow as it might have become with time, and yet full of a flavor of its own. Strangely enough, the early 'Rivals' is more humorous and less witty than the later School for Scandal,' perhaps because the humor of the Rivals' is rather the frank feeling for fun and appreciation of the incongruous (both of which may be youthful qualities) than the deeper and broader humor which we see at its full in Molière and Shakspere.

So we have the bold outlines of Mrs. Malaprop and Bob Acres, personages having only a slight likeness to nature, and not always even consistent to their own projection, but strong in comic effect and abundantly laughter-compelling. They are caricatures, if you will, but caricatures of great force, full of robust fun, tough in texture, and able to stand by themselves, in spite of any artistic inequality. Squire Acres is a country gentleman of limited intelligence, incapable of acquiring, even by contagion, the curious system of referential swearing by which he gives variety to his speech. But "odds, bullets, and blades!" as he says, his indeterminate valor is so aptly utilized, and his ultimate poltroonry in the duel scene is so whimsically developed, and so sharply contrasted with the Irish assurance and ease of Sir Lucius O'Trigger, that he would be a hardhearted critic indeed who could taunt Mr. Acres with his artistic short-comings. And it surely takes a very acute mind to blunder so happily in the "derangement of epitaphs" as does Mrs. Malaprop; she must do it with malice prepense, and as though she, and not her niece, were as "headstrong as an allegory on the banks of the Nile." It is only a sober second thought, however, which allows us to "cast aspersions on her parts of speech." While Bob Acres and Mrs. Malaprop are before us we accept them as they are; and here we touch what was at once Sheridan's weakness and his strength, which lay side by side. He sought, first of all, theatrical effect; dramatic excellence was a secondary and subservient consideration. On the stage, where all goes with a snap, consistency of character is not as important as distinctness of drawing. The attributes of a character may be incongruous if they make the character itself more readily recognizable; and the attention of the spectator may be taken from the incongruity by humor of situation and quickness of dialogue. Acres's odd oaths are no great strain on consistency, and they help